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A FOOL'S WISDOM 

A SKETCH OF 1586 



BY 

EUGENE W. PRESBREY 



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COPYRIGHTED 
BY 

EUGENE W. PRESBREY 
March, 1904 

All rights reserved 



To all who read, who write, who act, 

I dedicate. 

E. W. P. 



PREFACE. 

In all of the old morality plays there were two 
distinct and essential characters, the Devil and 
Vice. The Devil was borrowed bodily, horns, 
hoof, tail, hairy body and horrible aspect, from 
the older and clumsier miracle plays, but Vice 
was a new creation. 

How Vice, as a character, came into existence 
has not been satisfactorily explained. The mor- 
ality play was a natural development in dra- 
matic art toward realism, bringing the display 
of character nearer to the lower level of 
human comprehension. Perhaps, too, humanity 
was beginning to take a lighter view of the minor 
weaknesses and vices, recognizing them as fa- 
miliar and ever present qualities. In the moral 
play these were embodied in one representative, 
a clown, whose mission was the antithesis to mor- 
ality which was the motive of the play. 

This clown was, at first, called Vice. He wore 
the dress of jester to which the asses' ears prob- 
ably were added in imitation of the horns of his 
master the Devil, who generally finished the play 
by taking the vicious fool off to Hell upon his 
back, thus naively suggesting that the smaller 
vices may be safely enjoyed for a time but must 



come to damnation at last ; quite consistent with 
the growing puritanism of the period. 

Vice, as a character, was given every latitude. 
He made and spoke his own words, when he 
chose to do so. He must have been the cleverest 
and wisest among his fellows, and the presence 
of this highly human echo of the Devil, using 
his own natural methods, had great influence 
upon the drama. 

Vice was the antecedent of the comedian and 
the villain in modern plays. He was scamp, brag- 
gart, practical joker, instigator of mischief, and 
improviser of songs. He wore a "counterfeit 
countenance, beard apeake," long ears or horns, 
was armed with sword of lath to beat the Devil, 
and a sharp tongue on which none might put a 
bridle; these adjuncts, with all that he was 
licensed to represent and his fate at the end of 
the play, made him the possible antecedent of 
Mephisto. 

It is quite certain that Vice's fellow actors, and 
authors, too, envious of his popularity and privi- 
leges, borrowed his wit and assumed some of the 
liberties granted to him. In the growth of the 
morality play many of the malicious traits pre- 
sented by Vice were elaborated by authors and 
appeared as new and separate characters. This 
continued till Vice had little left but his own folly. 

With the passing of the moral play and the 
dawn of the Elizabethan drama, Vice, or In- 
iquity, as he was sometimes called, lost his name 
and occupation. His "state was the more gra- 
cious," for, while he still remained the fool, he 



was no longer the licensed exponent of wicked- 
ness deserving ignoble end. His cast of! charac- 
ter is now worn with more grace and less punish- 
ment by the villain of our plays. Shakespeare 
gave him new and delightful dignity remembering 
well his previous character : 

"Thus like the formal vice, Iniquity, 
I moralize two meanings in one word." 

Richard III. Act III. Sc. I. 





CHARACTERS. 


A 


Patron. 




A 


Playwright. 




A 


Novice. 




A 


Fool. 




A 


Lounger. 




A Tapster. 






London, 


1586. 




Scene : A Taproom. 



A FOOL'S WISDOM. 



Scene: A taproom in London, evening, 1586. 
Seated at table, Playwright and Loun- 
ger. At another table the Patron. The 
Patron is a mountain of flesh. The 
Fool sits, cross-legged, on floor, with 
dagger of lath in his hand. The others 
have pots of ale before them. The Fool 
sings, the others join in the chorus, 
Fool beating time with his sword of 
lath. 

Fool. 

I. "She whift her pipe, she drunk her can, 

The pot was ne'er out of her span, 
She married a tobacco man, 
A stranger — a stranger." 

(Omnes.) 

"She married a tobacco man, 
A stranger, a stranger." 

(They cheer and rattle cups on tables.) 

8 



Lounger. (Tipsily.) 
Good song! 

Playwright. 

Good fool ! 

Patron. 
To it, all, to it again ! 

(Omnes, noisily.) 
"She married a tobacco man, 
A stranger, a stranger." 

Patron. 
What ho, Landlord ! 
(Enter Tapster, r.) 

Patron. 
Fill the pots, you lousey varlet, and all you 
noisy braggarts borrow thirst, fill your bellies, 
guzzle! guzzle! to-night I'll fill your cups— to- 
morrow — you shall fill my purse. 

Playwright. 
The license then, is granted ? 

Patron. 
To-day. The good queen Bess hath put her 
hand to it, and I am master of all new revels 

now. 

( The Fool laughs loud and long. 
The Tapster changes the cups.) 

Patron. 
What's to laugh at, Fool ? 
(Fool points at Patron with dagger, laughs.) 



Playwright. 
The merry ass is pregnant. 

Patron. 
{Rubbing knees.) So am I, in both my knees, 
(Fool laughs. Lounger and 
Playwright come to him. Pa- 
tron cannot rise.) 

Playwright. 
Stand and deliver! 

Fool. 
Oho ! you'd steal my wit, 'tis not the first time. 

Playwright. 
'Tis the last time you'll have any to dispose, 
an' you speak not. 

Fool. 
Then I cry mercy. When you that write steal 
not the wit of fools, I am undone. 

Patron. 
Why didst laugh ? 

Fool. 
At the newest folly, good my lord. 

Playwright. 
Leave the fool to soak in his own wit. 

Fool. 
Nay, it touches you— and you — and you, my 
lord. 

10 



Patron. 
How's that, knave? 

Fool. 
The blind Goddess has given Drama a new 
scale. Your gnat's brains must now be judged 
by weight, so much to the pound. 

Patron. 

Be silent, Fool! 

Fool. 
Then should I not be fool ? 

Patron. 
Once a fool always a fool. 

Fool. 
Not so, my lord, I but play the fool and you're 
to blame for't. 

Playwright and Lounger. 
(Sit l. c.) How's that? 

Patron. 
Come, propound, expound, impound, com- 
pound! Now, thou'rt fool, thy wit must prove 
thou hast not always been a fool. If wit is motley 
then shalt have no drink. 

Fool. 
Nay, not always fool. I'm but a creature of 
the stage ; and once my name was Vice, and this 
my character : 
2. "For counterfeit countenance known am I, 
This world is full of my folly, 

ii 



I set not by him a fly 

That cannot counterfeit a lie, 

Swear, and stare, and bide thereby, 

And countenance it cleanly, 

And defend it mannerly. 

A knave will counterfeit now a knight, 

A lourdayne like a lord to fight, 

A minstrell like a man of might, 

A tapster like a lady bright, 

Thus make I them with thrift to fight, 

Thus, at the last, I bring them right 

To Tyburn, where they hang on height." 

(Kisses cross hilt of dagger.) 

But now, my masters, my occupation's gone. 
Since my lords and kings play all the vices— I'm 
but a fool to them. Are you answered ? 

Patron. 
Well said, Fool. 

Lounger, 
(l. c. at table.) The health of our new players. 

Playwright. 

Nay ! I drink to no player ! He mouths our 
words, and spouts our groatsworth of wit so 
badly that I do repent of all the plays I've made. 
I'll write no more, turn Puritan, and seek a liv- 
ing in the church. 

Fool. 

Thou shouldst, for other cause ; thy plays are 
damnable, no wits of thine can save them from 
burning, or thee from hell. 

12 



Playwright. 
Beshrew thee, Fool! thou'lt mouth no more 
songs of mine ! 

Fool. 
The more fool thou. I'll write mine own and 
mouth them. Tis the only privilege of a fool, 
to make his own words. 

Playwright. 
Aye, there's our grief, my lord. 

Patron. 
How's that? 

Playwright. 
Why, every fool's turned writer. 

Patron. 
A pox on your writings and your foolings! a 
pox on them that play the fools, or them that 
fool with players, you're all alike to me, 'tis 
pounds and pence I seek. What's writ is good, 
and fooling's good, that fattens purse. Hark ye, 
I can write my name, and I know a song is good 
if others pay to hear it, so fry your brains, nib- 
blers, and bring them to me spitted on a feathered 
goose-quill, I'll buy and sell them. I'll judge 
your wares and present them to the other fools, 
the public. (He tries to sing.) "The pot was 
ne'er out of her span" — That's a good song. 
( Yazvns. ) A fat purse — a full belly — and a stout 
bed — to — sleep upon — would I were in it, now — 
(Yazvns and goes to sleep.) 

13 



Fool. 

{Holding dagger over him.) He's gone. 

Playwright. 
And this fat fool shall judge our wares! I'll 
write no more. 

{Enter Tapster, r.) 

Tapster. 
My lord, one waits without 

Playwright. 
One what ? Varlet ! Scum ! 

Tapster. 
Varlet, an' you will, but scum — back to your 
teeth that grind my fare and pay not! Scum! 
there's chalk upon the tap-room door that all 
your writings cannot pay! Scum, forsooth! 
Some day, in playhouse pit, my bullies shall trip 
you and duck your head in the vomit cask — pay 
with scum, and scum you shall have to pay with ! 

Fool. 
Hush ! the Drama sleeps ! 

Tapster. 
Scum ! 

Fool. 
What is he, the one without ? 

Tapster. 
A stripling, who would have speech with his 
lordship. 

Playwright. 
What looks he like? 

14 



Tapster. 
A poor player. 

Fool. 
Poor, if player, be sure o' that. Fetch him, 
there's room for another fool. He shall have 
speech with us and a fool shall judge him. 

Tapster. 
(At door r.) This way, good sir. 

(Enter Novice, with loose sheets 
of MSS. He is very plainly 
dressed in black.) 

Novice. 
Your pardon, gentles, one of you I seek, 
I know not which. 

Fool. 
Sir, if you'd verses buy, 
There's your quill, but if you seek a patron, 
This mountain you must climb. If folly bent, 
I'm your fool. Pray you, make the most of that. 

Novice. 
Then we part before we meet, but tell me, 
Why do you wear the motley off the stage ? 

Fool. 
I will ; because my folly's all without, 
Within, I'm as wise as any other. 

Novice. 
Most wise fool, to keep your folly hidden ! 

i5 



Fool. 
But I've a better reason for it, too — 
Tis the only suit I have. 

Novice. 

Pray Pardon : 
Besides, I'm wrong; the folly of to-day 
Shall be the wisdom of all to-morrows, 
Else why do we live? Fool, is not that true? 

Fool. 
True. 

Novice. 
If I'm misdirected set me right, 
I seek the newest patron of the stage. 

Playwright. 
Art a player? 

Novice. 
That, or anything, that leads 
By sure steps from nothing to something I've 
Set heart upon. 

Playwright. 
(Noting MSS. ) Sir, what's the part you play ? 

Novice. 
A mustard seed, the acorn, a floating 
Thistle-down, a something that lives so small 
That nothing is 'twixt it and nothing : 
A fragile germ that kissed with sun and air, 
Expands, puts forth its tiny root in some 
Sheltering nook of earth and multiplies 
To all eternity. 

16 



Fool. 
Here's no gnat's brain! 

Playwright. 
Another fool turned writer, I'll be bound! 

Fool. 
I swear you'd steal to have such pretty wit. 

Playwright. 
(To Novice.) 

Player forsooth! Sirrah, take my advice, 
And touch him not for he's a lousey knave, 
Consorts with ruffians, pimps, and courtesans ; 
With ragged, coz'ning queanes spends sleepless 

nights 
In orgies, dicing, drinking, blaspheming. 
Step, indeed ! from dunghill to a kingdom : 
Living, a vain fantastic, when he's dead 
He goes to other mad knaves in hell. 

Novice. 
Nay, good sir, you wrong him much, that I'll 

prove. 
Fate chooses him for her own, and places him 
Above the grasp of fortune and of care. 
The player has his hour upon the stage : 
And in that hour he wields a golden scepter : 
Rules a kingdom, woos and wins, conquers foes, 
Is clothed in purple, endless wealth is his, 
He shares the pomp and pleasure of the world. 
With sword and shield, and cause, a hero is, 

17 



The rouge and silken hose, a lover makes, 
The brazen crown an emperor. Romeo, 
Doffs his velvets, jewels, and lays aside 
His sword, goes supperless to bed — to dream, 
On pallet of straw, of a laurel crown, 
Of waving handkerchiefs, clamorous hands, 
Sweetly scented notes breathing boundless love. 
What to him the fardels, the stings of want ; 
Clothed not, nor where to eat, drink, nor sleep, 
He is, at once, a beggar and a king 
And all the world's his kingdom. 



i &> 



Fool. 

Bravo, sir! 
A masterful defence, take fool's advice ; 
Go hence, for your wisdom comes a begging. 

{Enter Tapster, r.) 

Playwright. 
Go, Landlord, fill the cups — in drinking, 
One heals the wounds that are made by thinking. 

Patron, waking. 
Cups ! I've another thirst. 

Fool. 

Then fill a tub. 
Your lordship, here's a jewel, yet uncut, 
That wants a setting. 

Patron. 

Go, pawn it, and get 
More wit. 

18 



Fool. 
(To Novice.) 

Good seeker, here's the soil you seek, 
Bury your seed with him, an' it grow not— 
'Twill be for want of water. 

Novice. 

(To Patron.) 

You are the new master of the revels 

Appointed by the queen? 

Patron. 

I am, sirrah, 
And it's thirsty labor, who, sir, are you? 

(Exit Tapster with empty cups.) 

Novice. 
The maker of a play 

Playwright. 

Play ! I knew it ! 

Novice. 
Which I would read to you 

Patron. 

By God, you'll not ! 
Read me no plays ! play them first, in hedges 
Courtyards, or windows, devil take the place! 
A coz'ning knave, sirrah, to come to me 
With play that's not been played. Hast writ 
more? 

19 



Playwright. 
An' this one lodged, he'll show a basket full ! 

Novice. 
Nay, sir, this one, the first-born of my brain, 
Must live, or starve for want of nourishment. 

Patron. 
A bastard, I'll be sworn ! not worth the clothes 
To swaddle with. Who caught you idle, sir, 
And made your fancy pregnant? 

Playwright. ,™. 

lis a crow 

3. That scents our bones and comes a flying here 

To steal our brighter plumage. 

Novice. 

Sirs! but listen 



Playwright. 
Nay, not I ! I'm bored too much already. 

Lounger (waking). 
Nor I, I'm drunken, now. 

(Sleeps again, head on table.) 

Playwright. 

Some other inn 
Shall give me shelter, if you must insist. 

Patron ( Takes MSS. ) . 
Is't all your own? 

Novice. 

All. 

20 



Patron. 

I like not the play — 
The writing's crooked 

Novice. 

Good sir, I pray you 
Read the argument. 

( Patron turns MSS. upside down. ) 

Fool. 
{Over his shoulder.) 
With mellow accent read aloud, for all. 

Patron. 

Read ! nay ! a pox on all that waste their time 

With reading! Here, take your hooks and eyes, 

You're young, wait till you're old, live first, then 

write. 

Novice. 
I write, now, but to live. 

Patron. 

I've lived without. 

Novice. 
Patient God, but give me time, and I'll climb 
This mountain, yet ; I'll write thee down, my lord, 
So thou shalt live forever, that I'll swear ! 
(Enter Tapster, r.) 

Patron. 
Till then, find another patron. The fool 
May hear your play, I go to sleep again. 
Varlet, charge a bed, here I stay to-night. 

(He sleeps.) 

21 



Novice. 
(To Playwright.) You, sir 

Playwright. 
(Going r.) 

I'm all ripe for sheets and garret. 
"Take warning ye that plays do make, 

4. And ye that do them act, 
Desist in time, lest devil take — 
Go, think upon this fact." 

(Exit with Tapster r. Novice 
gathers his MSS. from table r., 
turns, sees sleeping Lounger at 
table l.c.) 

Fool. 
Nay, wake him not ! 

Novice. 

And wherefore not ? 

Fool. 
Best of all our critics, he always sleeps, 
Hears nothing, sees nothing, and nothing writes. 

Novice. 
And thus I come to zero, naught — Grant, God, 
"My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth 

5. A bird that will revenge upon them all, 

And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven." 

(In despair, casts down the 

parchments and falls on stool, 

l. c.) 

"Aye, aye, so strives the woodcock in the gin, 

So doth the coney struggle in the net." 

22 



(Fool kneels, gathering up the 

leaves.) 
"What! was it I that would be England's king?" 
"Was it that I revelled," "though yet uncrowned," 6. 
"And made a preachment of my high desire !" 
Fool ! fool !— What is thy name, fool ? 

Fool. 

'Tis Yorick. 

Novice. 
7. "Pry'thee, grieve, to make me merry," Yorick, 
"Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. 
Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be 

mad : 
And I to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. 
Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport." 

Fool. 
(Hurt.) 
Why railest thou at me, master? thou'rt wrong. 

Novice. 
I rail not at thee. I but quote from this. 

(Takes from Fool a loose sheet of MSS.) 
We're all fools, together, we'll crown another, 
With jewels from my brain — my argument: 
This mountain of flesh, wiser than awake, 
Shall neither see nor hear. Thou shalt judge me. 
(He twists a sheet of the MSS. 
into dunce cap and sets it on the 
sleeping Patron's head.) 
Give me the rest, an' thou wilt listen, fool? 

23 



Fool. 
With all mine ears. Good master, what's thy 
name? 

Novice. 
Thou art fool, indeed, to ask; what matters it? 

Fool. 
Better to live in the memory of fools 
Than die with too much wisdom. 

Novice. 

Thou art right. 
I live as one unknown to Fame — Shakespeare. 
(Fool kisses the leaves, hands 
them to Novice, and lies at his 
feet as the Novice is about to 
read. ) 

CURTAIN. 



24 



NOTES. 

1 Sir Walter Raleigh introduced smoking to 
England in 1586. 

2 Old Skeltonic verse. 

3 Robert Greene, Master of Arts in Oxford and 
Cambridge, prolific writer of plays, tales, sa- 
tires, afflicted with all the faults and sorrows 
that authors and artists are supposed to inherit, 
died in poverty and want, the object of charity, 
in 1592. He left an address of great value to 
those who are interested in the early years of 
Shakespeare in London. This address shows 
clearly that Greene was jealous of Shake- 
speare's ability and warned others with words 
prophetic : — 

"There is an upstart crow beautiful with our 
feathers, as well able to bombast out a blanke 
verse as the best of you." 

4 New arrangement of old verse: 
"Take warning, ye that plays do make, 
And ye that do them act, 

Desist in time, for WormaH's sake, 
And think upon his fact." 

25 



Puritan ballad, written on Marlowe's fate. 
Marlowe died at thirty, the victim of his own 
debaucheries. 

5 Seven lines from Henry VI. Act I, Sc. IV. 
These quoted lines are to be found in Henry VI. 
and in the "True Tragedy" which appeared 
earlier. It is not unreasonable to suppose that 
Shakespeare went to London in 1586 with a 
play in his pocket. In 1592, the "True 
Tragedy" was said to have been played to more 
than ten thousand auditors. 

6 "Shakespeare, the uncrowned king of Eng- 
land." Heine. 

7 "Pry'thee, grieve to make me merry, York." 
Will Shakespeare forgive me for making York 
read Yorick. 



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